


Pick Mine

by goodcliche



Category: Pentatonix, Superfruit, The Selection Series - Kiera Cass
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Forbidden Love, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-28
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-04-29 03:48:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14464341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goodcliche/pseuds/goodcliche
Summary: In which Scott has to find a wife and suitable future queen, but has more interest in one of the Selected's brother.





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> Hii, I'm new to using ao3 for posting writing, am used to wattpad more so (username is the same on there), but sophie prefers this and i mean, i have an account here so why not post on here to. Wattpad will get updates quicker, probably, and this chapter's already posted there as well. Oh well. Hope you enjoy.  
> Leaving a comment or something is always appreciated, and they make my day (truly) so if you want to, feel free and dont be shy to do so please?

"Scott."

His head shot up at the sharp mention of his name, and met his mother's eyes. He quickly looked away, back down to his breakfast, and took a slow bite. She didn't say another thing, nor did his father. After a minute or two, he cautiously looked up at the pair again.

His mother sighed, her tone a bit softer. "You turned twenty-one a couple weeks ago."

Yes, it had indeed been his birthday a couple weeks back, so what?

"It's time for you to find a wife, Scott," she continued, locking eyes with him. He didn't dare look away, even though she seemed to show some sympathy.

"No."

"It's tradition, Scott." He shifted his gaze to his father, who was looking sterner than his mother had.

"And I've said multiple times that I don't want to be part of that tradition." He put down his fork with a strawberry still attached to it. He wasn't hungry anymore.

"And we have told you multiple times that you have to."

There didn't seem a point in arguing. It would be immature to stand up and walk away, but the thought crossed his mind nonetheless. Except it wouldn't get him anywhere. He broke eye contact and pursed his lips, contemplating his next move.

"Why?"

"Because you have to bear your title, and the responsibilities that come with that. One of those is marrying someone who is suitable to be the country's next queen and who can provide an heir to the throne. You know this, Scott."

"But I don't want that, Father."

Where his mother had shown a tiny bit of sympathy when opening the conversation, neither of his parents were showing that sympathy anymore. They just stared at him. He shivered.

"You'll have to. I think it'd be a good idea to send out letters to every eligible lady tomorrow, and to announce the Selection on the Report this Friday."

Scott most certainly didn't think it'd be good to announce the Selection. The Selection was a dumb competition in his eyes. One girl from every district in Illéa would be selected to compete for his heart. Literally. He would get to eliminate them and propose to the girl he supposedly fell in love with and was best suited to become the country's next queen. Except Scott was gay, and there was no way he would suddenly find love in a crowd of thirty-five girls.

"No." He shook his head slightly, and there was a certain edge to his voice. "No, I don't want to host a Selection, Father. Were neither of you listening when I came out as gay three years ago? There's no point in hosting all this- all this..." he wanted to say 'all this shit', but that would no doubt anger his father. He swallowed once, composing himself.

"There's no point in hosting the Selection if I'm never going to pick someone."

"Scott."

His father's voice was ice cold. He felt his heart drop to his stomach, felt every muscle in his body tensing up and his eyes widening a bit, despite trying not to show how intimidation and a hint of fear washed over him. He looked back down to his lap again, folding his hands.

"Of course we listening when you- you came out as... as gay. But that's a lifestyle choice you'll have to abandon from now on. You can't continue that as crown prince. As future king. You need to fulfill a role-model position, with a queen by your side. Not a- a prince." His dad seemed to almost shudder at the idea of his son taking the throne with a prince by his side rather than a queen. Scott was grateful that he had trained to show less emotion and maintain his posture all these years, because he really wanted to break down and cry. He let out a cold laugh in return, though. If he couldn't cry, he'd laugh. Easy.

"Yeah, sure. Because I can just switch my sexuality off and fall in love with a girl."

"Scott, as heir to the throne, there are certain things you have to sacrifice in order to reign. A king needs a queen, it's easy like that."

"So I have to sacrifice finding love and being happy? All because I'm the crown prince? Bullshit."

"Scott!" His father slammed his cutlery down, glaring at him. "You don't have to sacrifice happiness. You just have to find a wife. Look at your mom and I, does a future like ours really look that terrible?"

"Well," Scott scoffed, "it actually kinda does, yeah."

He shoved his chair back, feeling hot tears forming in his eyes. He didn't feel like screaming or arguing, simply because there was no point in doing so. There wasn't one in crying either, but he couldn't stop a couple tears from escaping, running down his cheeks and dangling at the bottom of his chin. His parents were set on him finding a wife, on hosting the Selection to do so, and for him to "sacrifice his sexuality and marry a pretty girl" all because he was the crown prince.

"Scott. Don't you dare leave this conversa-" but he was already gone.

He wiped at his eyes, more angry than he was sad. Of course he was sad, he was disappointed in his parents for forcing him to do this, that this would mean he most likely wouldn't find everlasting love in a way he wanted to, that he wouldn't get to marry the man of his dreams one day, and that the future set for him was one with a wife who he couldn't possibly ever give the love she deserved.

But he was also angry his parents were forcing this on him. It could have been his own choice to continue the selection, but change it up a bit by clearly looking for a future prince, not a princess. He was angry because they had accepted him when he came out as gay, despite not being the most overjoyed about it. They had accepted and respected him. Had. Because if they would still respect him being gay, they wouldn't be doing this. They wouldn't say "hey yeah so since you're the crown prince and you're becoming older now, time to throw away the gay mask and put on the straight one".

He was angry that there didn't seem to be any sort of discussion about it, but rather his parents appeared to have everything planned out already. His mother had opened the conversation in such a way that Scott thought there would at least be some decisions made from his side, but no such luck. Of course not. It was stupid that he had ever even let that thought cross his mind.

Tears were running down his face quickly, and he ignored the multiple guards and maids approaching him to ask if he was okay, or to hesitantly stand a couple feet away from him. When a sixth person approached him, carefully and with a soft "Scott?", he started running.

He wanted to be alone right now. Alone and maybe with some alcohol. But it was still relatively early on in the day, and he knew, he knew he would hate himself is he started drinking at this time. He could do that later tonight. For now, he was happy enough to finally reach the third floor and throw open the door to his room and lock it.

He sank down to the floor, clutching his knees to his chest. His tears formed perfect, damp circles on his pants, and he wiped at his nose or eyes ever so often with the end of his sleeve. In the safe space that was his own room, where he was alone and undisturbed, he finally dared to let his body heave with sobs.

Pathetic, probably. But it was all he found himself capable of. He ignored knocks on his door, ignored staff asking him if he needed anything and his parents trying to talk him out of his room. They didn't even say sorry.

He only opened the door when the same soft voice from earlier could be heard, and Kirstin slipped into his room, locking it behind her. She put a tray with a bit of food on his desk, before walking back to him.

It only took her a small "please" combined with an outstretched hand to get Scott to stand up and stumble towards his bed. He fell down immediately, lying on his side. She caught his gaze, and smiled in sympathy. She didn't force him to eat or to talk, but rather just let him be and provided comfort.

"It's gonna be okay, hear me?" Kirstin wrapped her arms around the blond, pulling him into a bit of an awkward hug, but letting him lean against her chest. Scott wasn't sure if he believed her because, frankly, how was it ever going to be okay if he had to marry someone he could never give the love she deserved, and if he never would be given the opportunity to love someone like he himself deserved? But he nodded, because if Kirstin said it was going to be okay, it was, right? She wouldn't lie to him.


	2. two

****He had managed to drag Kevin with him to the cafe again. Kevin had insisted that it wouldn't be a smart move, with the Selection having been announced only the day before. Scott had shrugged it off, not caring. And Kevin, knowing Scott, was sure that not coming with would mean he'd sneak out on his own, and it was a lot wiser to have someone go with him.

The blond was practically skipping on their way there, and the guard laughed at him for it. He couldn't really blame him, though. The cafe was fun, edging on being a bar but being too cosy to classify as one. Scott's parents would have a heart attack if they found out he snuck off there three times a week. They had only found it a couple weeks ago, but Scott had been sad enough already that they hadn't gone on Wednesday. It had become something regular to do. Monday, Wednesday, Saturday.

They entered the cafe, avoiding anyone and everyone as to not draw attention to themselves, and settled in the dim corner where they'd sat almost every night thus far. There was a small, round table, just big enough to fit a couple glasses, with chairs on either side. Someone standing in the centre of the cafe wouldn't really notice them, but they had a perfect view of everything. The small stage included.

The small stage also happened to be the reason they went to the cafe every Monday, Wednesday, and Saturday. Or the boy singing, more so. The stage itself wasn't that interesting. The boy however, definitely was. He was actually currently walking up to the microphone, heeled boots clicking on the wooden stage. Scott whipped his head around to look at him, letting his conversation with Kevin die in an instant.

During the set, Scott didn't tear his eyes away from the brunet. He was beautiful. He was graceful, composed himself in a way that was not exactly timid, but didn't make him out to be an open book either. He seemed comfortable, in his element. He tipped his head back just that little at the end of some notes, dragging the microphone stand a little, pushing it to the side and exposing his neck, eyes closed. The light caught on his hair and the dust around it, giving it an almost golden tint. His eyelashes were caught by the same light, and Scott felt a small pressure on his chest from looking at him. He wasn't just beautiful, he was gorgeous. He was lost in the music.

His voice was perfect too. It was exceptionally high, but it fit him. If Scott hadn't actually seen him, he wouldn't have been sure about his gender. His voice had a feminine tone to it, which was probably simply because it was higher than most male voices, but still. His voice, just like him, was graceful. It was sharp where it needed to be, but always clear, never faltering even the slightest. Fragile, like it was made of glass.

Scott especially enjoyed his high notes, and closed his eyes on those, letting a smile tug at his lips. What for, he wasn't so sure. Enjoyment of good music, he would say. The boy might have been lost in the music, but Scott was lost in him. He wanted to know more about him. Had wanted to know more about him ever since stepping foot inside the cafe a couple weeks ago. He had even gone as far that first night as to ask the barista if he was a regular performer or if this was a one time thing. Scott had been overjoyed to find out the boy performed regularly.

And yes, maybe his heart skipped a little and his breath hitched a bit when the boy just so happened to lock eyes with him, giving him something between a smile and a smirk before continuing to let his eyes wander over the small crowd. Scott couldn't bring his heartbeat down for the remainder of the performance. Suddenly wasn't capable of breathing at a normal rate. It didn't help that he got shot a smile a couple more times while the boy was singing. It really, really did not help.

He got his breathing and his heartbeat back under some control when the boy took a small bow and stepped off the stage, getting lost within in the crowd. Scott turned his head to look at Kevin, who was shaking his head a little, laughing at the blond.

"I'll go get us drinks, okay? Be right back."

And with that Scott was left alone to think about the performance he had just witnessed. He ought to have gotten used to it by now, having seen the boy perform fifteen times or so. But he hadn't. It was like he had been singing his heart out for forty minutes, leaving him breathless and in some sort of blissful state.

"I almost thought you'd decided my singing wasn't worth it anymore and ditched this old place."

Scott nearly jumped out of his skin. He turned around, eyes going wide as he took in the presence of the boy he had been staring at not five minutes ago. His face was shiny, and Scott thought he could see a couple beads of sweat dangling from his hair.

"No! Absolutely not! Y- you're stunning! I mean. Your voice is stunning. Not that you aren't. You're absolutely," he swallowed once, feeling himself go red in the face, "absolutely gorgeous. But your voice is perfect! I was just... preoccupied Wednesday. Your singing is definitely worth coming down here, it's beautiful."

He buried his face (which was probably as red as a tomato or at least felt like that) in his hands, silencing himself. What a fool he was making himself out to be. An absolute mess. He couldn't even speak coherently, for fucks sake.

The boy laughed, though, so at least it must have humoured him. Scott liked that. Scott liked his laugh, he decided. Even if it was because of him failing at basic social skills.

"I'm so sorry," he groaned, looking up at the boy. The latter, instead of having run off, was looking at him with a rather amused smile.

"It's okay. Flattering, even. Do you mind if I sit or...?" He gestured to the empty chair where Kevin had previously been sitting.

"Oh! Eh, yeah, go ahead."

The brunet held his hand out over the small table, and after staring at it for a couple seconds, Scott realised that he had done so to shake his and introduce himself. He took the hand, and reverted his gaze back to the boy.

"I'm Mitch," he said with a small smile, and Scott found himself smiling along. His cheeks felt hot and he was probably blushing again, but it wasn't like he could embarrass himself anymore than he already had, could he? He repeated the boy - Mitch - 's name a couple times, letting it roll over his lips. It fit him, he decided.

"Scott," he said in return, letting go of the tattooed hand that had still been holding his. Mitch still sported an amused smile, eyes shining as he shook his head slightly.

"I know."

"Oh."

"I think your name is quite common knowledge, Scott. And besides that, my sister hasn't talked about anything but you since Thursday." Scott didn't know what to say to that, and Mitch must have sensed his discomfort. "It's fine, really. Sorry for bringing it up if it isn't something you like to talk about. I get that you aren't really coming here with the intention of being recognised and talked to about the Selection, or anything regarding like, the country, all the time."

Tension seeped from his shoulders soon enough, and he felt himself relax a bit more in his chair now that the inevitable topic had been dropped already. He muttered a small 'thank you', but had no idea how to start a conversation with Mitch. He had already made a fool of himself by being a complete and utter mess when the brunet had first spoken to him, and he didn't want to talk about himself.

"Soo... Wednesday, preoccupied? Is there competition that I have to beat, another cafe or bar you snuck off to to listen to stunning singers?"

He laughed. It almost seemed to be a reflex. "No, no. The-" he avoided Mitch's brown eyes and the smile on his lips and the way he cocked his head a little to the side, but stared at his own hands instead. "The Selection, actually. But let's uh, let's not talk about that." He looked up again, meeting Mitch's eyes and smiling back at him. His smile had turned from an amused one into a sympathetic one, and Scott found himself grateful for that.

"Scott! Did you really just give away my chair?" Kevin was standing with two drinks in his hands, looking at the blond with a pointed look.

"Oh- it's uh, it's fine, you can sit here again," Mitch started, already making moves to get up. The guard shook his head, gestured for him to sit down as much as he could holding a drink in his hand, and putting the two drinks on the table.

"No, you sit there. I spotted a friend of mine earlier, so I'll just go talk to him. You want anything to drink? I got Scott and I something, but if I'd known there'd be a third person here I'd have brought you something too."

Mitch's eyes seemed to almost pop out of his head, and he quickly refused, stammering multiple "no"'s, followed by a "Drinks are expensive here, I have a bottle of water with me." He showed an almost empty bottle of water as to prove himself.

"You sure?" Scott asked, looking Mitch's face up and down. "I can pay for it." That came out wrong, especially seeing Mitch's eyes widen even more and see him shake his head again. "See it as my tip for your performance tonight." He still seemed hesitant, muttering that he couldn't take such an offer, but his eyes glanced over the drinks, so Scott rolled his eyes at him and nodded at Kevin, who, in his turn, was gesturing to the two hot chocolates. Scott knew there to be caramel in those, along with little bits of chipped chocolate and caramel sprinkled the top. He nudged one of the two glasses into Mitch's direction,

"Keep those, I'll get a new one for myself. Unless you don't like them, ...?"

"Mitch. And it's fine, really. Thank you so much."

"See you around then, Mitch," Kevin told him, smiling politely before turning to Scott, telling him that they'd leave in an hour or so and that Kevin would come pick him up if he was still here. Scott shrank in his chair, cheeks reddening. He felt like Kevin was babysitting him, and he was twenty one, for fucks sake. Though, he supposed. Kevin kinda was. He was supposed to look after Scott in and outside of the palace, and a it was wise to at least pinpoint so they'd to get home safe. He hated the feeling of someone babysitting him, but at least it was Kevin.

"So..." He started, wrapping his hands around the hot chocolate and taking a small sip. He had no idea on how to actually start a conversation between them. It hadn't even been part of the plan. Yet Mitch's smiled at him, gratefully taking a sip of his own drink before sighing.

"Good drink?" Scott asked with a shy smile.

"Hmmm." He took another sip. "Very good drink. Thank you, again."

"Is it- is it weird to ask how you started singing?" He felt weird. He definitely felt weird and maybe like it was rude to ask, but he was interested and he really, really wanted to know more about this boy and his beautiful voice and he was really bad at conversation starters. Especially with people he'd just met and who he wanted to get to know better, because that weren't the people he could exchange a couple lines with and move on, like he did and could with most people.

"No, no of course not. I started singing as soon as I started talking I guess. As a Five, my parents were obviously very relieved that I'd already found my so called 'talent' that young. I have a friend who still hasn't found hers, and it's almost her twentieth birthday. She paints, but it's not something she particularly enjoys or wants to spend her life doing. She's always dreamt of being a doctor but alas, our dear caste system has made that impossible for her unless she marries a Three."

Scott pursed his lips together at the last bit. He knew the castes were a sensitive subject amongst a lot of Illéa's citizens, and never felt comfortable with the subject being brought up. After all, he was the crown prince, probably the most influential person in the country after his father. He never knew what to do or to say when the topic was brought up, so rather than talking, he nodded at Mitch, who continued to talk while ever so often taking a sip from his drink.

"But yeah, I've had singing lessons since I was about five, and have gone with to do small performances since then too. I've just improved from there on, I guess. And people always liked me, they liked my voice and that I can sing a lot of genres if I want to. I suppose they like my attitude too, even though I've been hired to perform at places where they clearly didn't. And you? Surely you have hobbies, things other than preparing to rule the country that you like to do?"

Scott found himself embarrassed of how little he could think of. He also didn't want to come off as desperate by saying that the one thing he enjoyed more than anything was singing, like Mitch did. He mumbled it, though, but the brunet didn't properly hear him. Scott hadn't expected or wanted him to, but he repeated himself anyway.

"I uh, actually like to sing, too. It's part of the reason I like coming down here, if that doesn't sound weird. But I like music, and I've been taught to play the piano since probably before I could read and write, and singing seemed a natural progression to make. But at home," he hated referring to the palace as the palace, even though it didn't always really feel like home either, "it's often so closed off. Sometimes my parents will ask me to play at a party and even rarer than that I'll sing a bit too. Mostly it's just me and sometimes Kevin will listen, or Kirstin or someone else will, though. But coming down here and watching you perform looks so free, and the atmosphere makes it so much... I don't know... So much more, right? If that even makes sense?"

He shut his mouth quickly upon the realisation that he'd been rambling a bit, but Mitch was still watching him with a fond smile that made the tip of Scott's ears burn red and let heat rise up to his cheeks and also kind of made him want to hide under the table while simultaneously keeping his eyes on Mitch because he was absolutely adorable.

"It does, yeah," he chuckled, and Scott took another sip of his drink (which had cooled down a lot by now and was also almost empty) while watching him. "I think the thing about performing in a place like this is that most people that come here, come for the performance or performances. They enjoy it and they watch you and you have a bit of an audience, in a comfortable atmosphere with coffee and great acoustics."

Conversation flowed easily from there, and most of it was about singing and performing. Scott sighed multiple times, wishing not once, not twice, but at least three times that he could have the anonymity to go out somewhere and perform. Of sharing music and being praised for it because people liked it and not because it was expected of them to be nice towards the crown prince.

They talked about Mitch a bit more so than Scott, which was mostly because the latter squirmed a little in his seat every time anything related to the palace, the Selection, his royal upbringing, or his dooming future position of king was brought up. He went out here at night to escape all that fancy stuff, and he didn't want Mitch seeing him as someone superior with this crazy high status even though the last one was pretty inevitable because of its truth. He wanted Mitch to see him as his equal, as a normal citizen who was just enjoying a relaxed night out listening to some music and sipping from a warm drink.

Mitch, it turned out, came from a relatively small family for a family of fives. It was just him, his sister (who was a two years younger than him), and his parents. His mum was a painter, his sister danced, and his father photographed despite having danced when he was younger. Scott would have loved growing up in such a creative setting.

Mitch was also funny. They laughed a lot, and Scott didn't really care about the obvious blush on his cheeks anymore. He could blame it on the laughter or the high temperature or the warm drink, he decided. It didn't have to be because of how absolutely undeniably pretty Mitch was, and how even when he talked there seemed to be an air of authority around him even Scott didn't have. Scott decided that Mitch was definitely the more regal one of them, and with his beauty and slight arrogant display at times, he would be suited for the position as king more so than Scott himself was.

Kevin approached them way too soon, and Scott wanted to pout. So he did. He didn't want to leave yet. Mitch was nice and intriguing and Scott wanted to know more about him and laugh more with him and just listen to his beautiful voice some more and he didn't want to leave yet. Mitch fell silent as the guard stood by their table, and Kevin laughed at Scott's pout and puppy eyes.

"Come on, it's been almost two hours already when the deal had been one. We really don't want your parents sending out a search party." He patted Scott's shoulders twice before the blond actually made moves to stand up. Mitch did, too, feeling it'd only be appropriate. Kevin let his eyes flicker from Scott to Mitch and back again. "I'll see you outside in five, okay?"

It left the two of them standing beside their table. They stood awkwardly for what seemed an eternity, even though they had been laughing and having the most natural conversation not even a minute ago, before they walked towards the backdoor slowly. Scott had his hands in his pockets, dragging his steps a little. He didn't want to leave yet. He had liked this. And he wasn't sure if it would happen again.

"So..."

"We-"

They both spoke at the same time, after which a laugh followed. Scott still had his hands in his pockets, and he swayed with his upper body a bit. For some reason, he felt nervous.

"I'll be there again Monday?" It came out more as a question than a firm statement, but Mitch met his eyes with a shy smile. They both looked away, simultaneously biting their lips and finding their shoes a lot more interesting.

"Yeah, I'm looking forward to it," Mitch said back. He too, didn't want the night to end yet. Which was weird, because he usually hurried home as quick as he could and fell asleep because performing was equally as exhausting as it was exciting.

"Good. This was... nice." _Really, Scott? Nice? That's the best word you could think of? Dumbass._ He wanted to facepalm himself. Or have the ground swallow him whole. Instead there was this weird feeling in his stomach and the reoccurring blush on his cheeks and the red tips of his ears all combined with a small smile and meeting Mitch's eyes.

"Definitely. Thanks for the drinks again, Scott."

The smaller boy stepped forward, and it only dawned upon Scott that he was going in for a hug when he felt thin arms wrap around him. He immediately wrapped his arms around Mitch too, and came to the happy conclusion that their bodies fitted perfectly against each other. Mitch's head just fitted under Scott's chin if he rose it up a little, and Mitch's arms wrapped around Scott just a bit above his waist.

The hug lasted a couple seconds longer than was probably deemed appropriate, but it was nice. (Scott also concluded that Mitch smelled nice, but that was a different topic.)

"See you Monday then, Mitch."

"Yeah, see you on Monday, Scott."

The last thing Scott saw when stepping out of the cafe was Mitch biting down on his lip and smiling that shy smile with dimpled, rosy cheeks. That image was the one not leaving his mind on their trip back to the castle, and Kevin had to repeat multiple of his questions multiple times for Scott to actually hear them, as he had a goofy smile and slightly out-of-focus eyes staring into the distance.

 


	3. three

They had gotten back late the night before, but there were quick knocks on Scott's door in the early morning. With a groan, he rolled over. Despite his eyes being closed, there was an bright light that couldn't possibly be coming from the lights in his room. He had never turned them on last night.

"Scott!"

"Nooooo," he weakly let out from his bed. He opened his eyes and came face to face with the fact that he had never closed his curtains and the sun was spilling into his room. The huge windows in his room were one of the things he loved most, but right now, he hated them. He hated the curtains more, or rather the lack thereof, but he still glared at the windows.

"Come  _ ooon _ , Scott." He rolled over again, now glaring intensely at the door as if it would make Kirstin disappear and leave him alone. Maybe she'd let him sleep if he just ignored her for long enough. A new, impatient series of knocks told him otherwise.

It couldn't be later than eight am, but he stepped out of bed anyway, opening the door a tiny bit. He narrowed his eyes, looking the excited girl up and down before sighing and letting her in. She immediately went for his bed, jumping on it, and he begrudgingly followed. He didn't join her in sitting, but instead rolled himself into a blanket and squeezed his eyes shut. 

"What are you even waking me up for this early?" Another grunt left his mouth as he felt the mattress dip underneath a moving Kirstin. "Don't you have like, work to do?"

"Asks the  _ prince _ ? Don't you have to help run a country instead of sleeping in?"

He rolled his eyes behind his eyelids and squeezed them shut even tighter. The girl was tugging at the covers wrapped around him, and he clutched at them, not wanting to let go and have to start the day. " _ Kirst _ ."

"Oh, come  _ on _ . You got home at like eleven yesterday, and Kevin told me you ditched him for a boy and had a stupid ass lovestruck smile on your face the whole way back. You can't expect me to not go and interrogate you as soon as I can and is acceptable. It's like eight am, I'm not waking you up in the middle of the damn night, you princess."

She tugged at the covers again, and let out a victorious yell when it shot loose and Scott lost his grip on them. The boy, now without a blanket, folded into himself to seek the warmth that had so rudely been taken away from him. He let out a small whine before opening his eyes and glaring at Kirstin.

"Tell you what, let me get showered and dressed in peace, while you go fetch some breakfast from the kitchens, and meet me at the stables in twenty and then we can go for a ride and you can ask whatever you want." 

They stared at each other for a couple seconds, before the side of Kirstin's mouth quirked up in a smile. "Deal."

She left all too eagerly after that and Scott rolled over yet again, pushing his face into a pillow and letting out another groan. His bed was really too comfortable for his own good, especially at eight in the morning after not having been able to sleep last night. Sure, they had gotten back around eleven last night, but he hadn't been able to shake the image of Mitch from his mind.

From his raised eyebrow to the shy smile or the way he laughed and shook his head, the tattooed bats and exclamation points on his hand, the dimples in his cheeks. From the way he was lost in the music, entrancing everyone (or at the very least, Scott) with his voice, the way the light had caught on his hair and the air around him, making him appear magical, to the way he bit his lip and his cheeks had taken on a rosy tint after their hug.

He had replayed parts of their conversation in his head, wincing at how he had stuttered his way through it at first. Their conversation had been so easy, it almost seemed a bit surreal. It wasn't effortless or normal just yet, but it had felt like that wouldn't be hard to accomplish. It had felt free. He didn't have to think about formulating perfect coherent sentences, about being polite and ending his sentences with "please", "sir", "miss", or "thank you". 

Scott shook his head. Even now, he was thinking about the boy again. A little voice in his head told him that wasn't that weird, that it was only normal because normal conversations were so foreign to him and especially someone who he had developed a small tiny crush on was hard to shake from his mind. He tried to ignore that last 'crush' bit. 

Taking an ice cold shower didn't help clear his thoughts as much as he had hoped it would, but he got dressed anyway. On his way to the stables, he passed several maids and guards, all bowing their head down or shooting him small smiles. It always turned his stomach a bit. Sure, he was the prince and he had a position of certain power over them, but that didn't mean they always had to acknowledge him, ask how he was doing or try to assist him with anything and everything. He wasn't a baby that needed worshipping; he could handle himself.

The stables were nice, though. He liked the horses, stroked multiple of their noses while walking through them. He paused ever so often, scratching their heads or feeding them a piece of an apple he had picked up on his way.

It didn't take him long to find Kirstin waiting by Matt, who was holding the reins of Scott's own horse, and it didn't take them long to start their ride, either. There wasn't much to go to, especially if they wanted to stay in nature, away from the city and people, but it was more than enough.  

Kirstin waited to ask him about last night until they were well into the forest, a bit away from the palace and out of earshot of any guards. After all, no one could know about Scott sneaking out at night. Especially not with the Selection so close and his parents wanting to keep an even stricter eye on him. He appreciated her effort.

"So. Tell me  _ all _ about this boy you're in love with."

Scott raised an eyebrow at the girl and barked out a laugh. "I'm not  _ in love _ , Kirst."

"Kevin says otherwise."

"So?"

She sagged a bit in her saddle, trying not to startle her horse in the process. After years of knowing her, he could see how she was calculating her next words, and could see exactly when she found those words by the smirk on her face. "But that means there  _ is _ a boy."

Scott rolled his eyes.

"See! Now, tell me!" She demanded it, but with a smile on her face. 

"We just  _ talked _ , Kirst. There's nothing to tell."

"Sure, you  _ just _ talked for what, like two hours? Of  _ course _ there's  _ nothing _ to tell me then."

Scott's stomach answered for him, grumbling, and he halted his horse. "Let's stop and eat something here, okay?"

"Prince boy, don't change the topic on me."

He continued to ignore her, getting off his horse with ease and tying a knot in the reins so it wouldn't be able to fall over the horse's head. Or at least, if it would, it wouldn't be long enough for him to step into and potentially break his leg. Scott's heart would shatter if that ever happened. 

"I swear, at least tell me the guy's name or I won't get off my horse and join you." 

Scott rolled his eyes, biting into a piece of bread. He sat with his legs outstretched and his back against a tree, enjoying the fact that in the forest, he didn't have to act like a prince. He could let his pants get dirty from the ground and no one would call him out or tell him to change into clean ones as soon as he could. 

He saw Kirstin looking at him, a small pout on her face. He shook his head, smiling. There was no way he could  _ not _ tell her Mitch's name in order for her to join him. He could order her to join him, given that she was a member of the palace staff, but he never felt like abusing his power. Especially not towards people he considered friends. "Mitch. Now get off that horse and have breakfast with me." 

Satisfied, the girl shot him a smirk and climbed off her horse, snatching a piece of bread from Scott's hand. She joined him in sitting on the ground, and soon her eyes were prying into his. He looked away, already feeling slightly hot in his face. "What?" he shot out, looking away.

"Do tell."

"Do tell  _ what _ , exactly?"

" _ Mitch _ . Duh." 

"There  _ really _ isn't much to tell. We just talked. I already told you that." 

Scott leaned back, patting behind him for the small box with strawberries, putting one in his mouth. So maybe he was avoiding Kirstin's expectant stare by intensely studying the strawberries he had in his hands, but- actually, there wasn't really a 'but'. He just felt uncomfortable talking about a boy he was definitely interested in after only having talked to him for barely two hours. He was just too stubborn to admit that.

"Oh come on, you already told me that when we were riding here. I wanna know the  _ details _ , Scott. What did you talk about? How did you start talking? Are you seeing him again? What does he look like? What colour suits him?"

" _ What colour suits him _ ?" Scott frowned, wrinkling his nose. He almost laughed.

"Yes, _what_ _colour suits him_? Scott, I have to plan designs for matching outfits for your wedding, this is im-por- _tant_." She poked him three times during that last word, and this time, he did laugh. He shook his head, looking away.

"You're overthinking this, Kit. I don't even know if he's into guys, much less if he's into me."

"Scott. Look at me. How could he not be into you? You're handsome, have a great personality, and are the  _ crown prince _ , for fuck's sake. If he has eyes and a brain, I can assure you that he is into you."

"But-"

"No."

He rolled his eyes, biting into another strawberry.

"Noooooooo," she grabbed for his arms, turning Scott so that he was facing her again. "You're not shutting down the conversation again, I still haven't gotten my answers."

"Hmpf, okay. Yes, he was cute, very. He has dark brown hair, and his eyes are just a shade lighter than that. His skin is a bit olive tinted rather than pink-ish, and his last name makes me think that his family probably has some Italian roots, so you can use the Italian royal family as a reference for how he looks. Except that he's much prettier. He's quite a bit shorter than me, and when we hugged-"

"You  _ hugged _ him?" Excitedly, she slapped down on his arms a couple times. "You said you only  _ talked _ , you didn't tell me you  _ hugged _ him!"

"Yes, we hugged. Wow, important. Great determining factor in whatever you're trying to figure out. You know I'm a hugger, this really shouldn't be much of a surprise to you."

"No, but it's  _ exciting _ !" 

Scott rolled his eyes again. "Anyways, so when we hugged his head fit just underneath my chin. He- he has a very elegant air around him, and he's really gracious. He's pretty skinny, I don't think he has much muscle. Oh! He has tattoos on one of his hands, too. Maybe he has more, but I couldn't see. And he has reaaaally long eyelashes that perfectly caught the light and-"

Kirstin was staring at him, a grin on her face. "Oh boy, you're so smitten already."

His cheeks and neck turned red. He rubbed at the back of his neck, even though there was no reason to do so and it didn't help him become more comfortable. "W-what?" He stammered. 

"Honey, you could've just said he has brown hair and brown eyes and that would've been fine, but you went into this long, detailed description. All with a stupid tiny smile on your face and unfocused eyes."

If possible, Scott's face got even redder. 

"It's fine, Scott! Just funny. But it's cute, really," Kirstin tried to reassure him. She hadn't meant to make him so self conscious, but it was funny, in her eyes, how lovestruck he already seemed to be. It made her happy that Scott was so happy. Of course, she hadn't met Mitch yet and she couldn't be sure of anything, but if the effects of him talking to Scott made her best friend smile and blush like this? Hell yes, she already liked the guy. 

"Now I don'tknowhattotalbouanymow," Scott mumbled under his breath. His face had gotten hot, and Kirstin's sweet, knowing smile, wasn't really helping.

The girl's eyes widened trying to understand him. "Excuse me, what?"

"Nothing."

She raised an eyebrow, silently demanding an answer. It struck him as funny that he technically was the person with more power in this friendship, but that Kirstin never failed to overpower him. That she always found a way to get him to do whatever she wanted.

"That I don't know what to say now, okay?"

"Well, for example, you could tell me how you started talking, what you talked about,  _ what colour suits him _ ... Or you can go on and on about how gorgeous this Mitch is."

"Hey! I didn't say he's gorgeous! Not that he isn't! He absolutely is! But-  _ Nooooo _ , Kirst, don't give me that look! You look at me like I'm a puppy or something. I'm not." He pouted and crossed his arms, to which the girl only cocked her head slightly, not changing the look on her face. " _ Stoooop _ , Kit."

"You have a point there, you know? You don't look like a puppy as much as you look like a toddler right now."

"Shut up."

"Only if you actually will tell how you started talking to him and what you talked about."

"Then be my guest and keep on talking."

This time, it was Kirstin's turn to pout. "But you said you'd tell me everything I wanted to know!"

"That, my dear Kirstin, is where you are wrong," Scott took a sip of water, "I said you could  _ ask _ me whatever you wanted, not that I'd actually spill."

"You're mean."

"Just sticking to what I said earlier, honey. Shall we go back, then? I take it you're finished eating, too?" There was still a bit of bread left, but the strawberries were all gone, and neither of them had touched the food in a good ten minutes. He stood up, leaving no actual choice to Kirstin on whether to stay or leave with him.

"Uh, you still haven't answered all my questions."

"I thought we'd already established that, Kit. You had to go and mock me." He rolled his eyes, and a smile tugged at his lips as he reached for the reins of his horse, untying them but making no rush of it. Kirstin was still sitting on the ground, legs crossed and a slight pout on her face.

"Did not!"

"Of course you didn't, you'd  _ neeever  _ do that."

She rolled her eyes and got up too, and within seconds she was sitting in the saddle again, Scott following suit not much later.

"But okay," he started after a minute or two, giving in to Kirstin's silent protest. (And maybe he secretly was excited himself to talk about Mitch, too.) "He’s sung there every time Kev and I've been there, and he came up to me afterwards because we hadn't gone Wednesday, and he jokingly asked if I'd gotten tired of his singing and that's why I wasn't there Wednesday."

He had her full attention now, but he didn't really look at her. Really, he preferred to see where he was going. Especially while riding, because who knew what might scare his horse. Nothing, probably, but still he felt more comfortable being able to see where he was going.  

"Of course, I then made a fool out of myself because obviously I've never had lessons on how to talk and portray myself, and I thought he'd leave but he actually sat down and then we had some hot chocolates and Kevin felt betrayed I gave his chair away, but he was nice about it, a-"

"Scott. Breathe, honey."

"Right, right. But we mostly just talked about him and his singing and I said that I liked to sing too but like, I didn't want it to come across as if I just said that because he sings for a living and he sounds so good but you know me, I really like singing and he asked what I liked to do other than oh, I don't know, like 'prince-y' stuff, so I felt like it would be good to mention and I'm rambling again, aren't I?"

He looked at her now, his eyes wide and cheeks slightly red. In response, Kirstin just laughed, nodding.

"Fucking great. But Kirst, god, he's so beautiful. And his voice is so perfect. You have to hear him sing sometime. And he's so gracious. He's so much more regal than I am. And he's so so nice and he laughed when I tried to make a joke and he understood that I didn't want to talk about anything regarding the Selection or the palace or anything of royalty  _ at all _ and it's so  _ nice  _  to just be able to talk to someone without that, and just talk like two normal people. And he smelled so good when we hugged and I think I blushed like, constantly, but-" he sighed, "yeah."

"God, you're so smitten already, I can't believe this. All it takes is one,  _ one _ conversation and you're gone." 

"Am not."

"Yeah, sure, and I'm actually an alien warrior investigating human life to report back so we can win a war against you. You definitely are, prince boy."


	4. four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! It's been a while (almost two months, oops). I'm sorry for not updating earlier. The previous chapter was right after my exams ended, and after that, I just hit this massive slump of exhaustion and sleeping and not having energy to do anything which then resulted into a bit of a writers block bc that was something that needed too much energy and thought. I drew a lot in that time tho. (I finished two drawings, which for me, is a LOT. u can check them out on my twitter (goodcliches) where i also opened commissions lmao). In the meantime: I graduated(!!!) and am pretty proud of my final grades and the simple fact that I graduated where half a year ago I almost wanted to quit this year and go back to last year bc everything was terrible. I've also been accepted at my firm choice university to study Creative Writing!!! So I'm gonna move to the uk in September and I'm soooo excited to experiment with my writing and learn a lot. 
> 
> I hope the next chapter won't take this long again, and as always; thank you! Thank you for taking the time out of your day to read this. Comments especially and kudos mean a lot to me and make my day + motivate me to get the next bit done quicker bc it convinced me people still like this story. (I had my own doubts of continuing this story but i have so much ideas and so much love for the story so yes.)
> 
> Love always, and enjoy x

It had been almost two weeks since he and Mitch had had their first actual conversation now, but in that short timespan it had also become the one thing keeping Scott focused and going. The weeks had been filled with the Selection. With preparations and a couple interviews and, of course, selecting the girls. Of course, it was presented to the public as a random selection of girls, but there were dozens of advisors looking through piles and piles of applications. Scott himself was supposed to do so too, alongside his father, but he had refused to every time.   
  
He tried to stay away from anything that had to do with the Selection at all, staying out at the cafe with Mitch until it was almost curfew, roaming the streets after that with Kevin trailing behind them. As the crown prince, they couldn't really do anything to him for being out past curfew, and even though Mitch was nervous about the whole thing, he had willingly walked with Scott last night to calm the blond down. Last night, when he didn't even perform at the cafe.  
  
Last night was the only thing keeping Scott sane, right now. He had met up with Mitch outside of the cafe, and they'd walked for what felt like hours. And even though they had only been talking for about three weeks now, his tiny crush had developed into quite a bigger one, a blush covering his cheeks more often than not in Mitch’s presence. The moments their hands brushed on their walk, the urge to reach out and hold Mitch's had been heavy on his chest, but before he could even finish his inner debate about whether to grab it or not, the moment would be over.  
  
Last night had been a huge blur of Mitch just talking; talking about anything and everything from his childhood and how stressed his sister was about the Selection because she hoped so badly to be Selected and how Mitch had to resist laughing in her face because he had been talking and hanging out with the boy she fawned over, to explaining which streets they were roaming and who lived in what house and what they did for a living. Anything to calm Scott's nerves without actively talking about what was making him so nervous. Anything to fill the silence that would send him spiralling into his own thoughts again. And Scott couldn't be more thankful for that.  
  
Currently, he was trying to keep his leg from bouncing up and down. They were all seated, waiting for the Report to start filming. It was weird; Scott really, _really_ didn't want the Selection to happen, but he still felt a bundle of nerves in his stomach. His eyes were constantly darting around the room, and he honestly felt a bit like throwing up. It was all a bit unlike the behaviour he was supposed to portray; the calm, collected, and kind crown prince.  
  
This, too, earned him a disapproving look from his father. He tried to still his leg, focus his eyes on one point, but didn't find much success. In the end, he decided to turn away and ignore his father, staring in the distance and looking at the cameras and crew. He swallowed nervously, closed his eyes for a moment.  
  
"Yes, attention please! Going live in five... four... three... two..." he heard a clap, and suddenly there were cameras focusing on his face, although most followed the presenter, Yannick.  
  
" _Gooooood_ evening ladies and gentlemen of Illéa! Welcome to The Report, I am your host Yannick, and tonight we have a _very_ special announcement to make. Not too long from now, we will be announcing the thirty-five selected ladies and seeing the prince's _live_ and _first_ _ever_ reaction to all of them!"  
  
Scott smiled at the camera's and waved, not faltering or hesitating in the slightest. He had flinched the tiniest bit when Yannick had starting saying 'selected', but it was easily hidden. Just like his discomfort right now. Or at least, he hoped so.   
  
Yannick didn't start with the Selection, of course, so Scott was free to zone out a bit. Most of what was being said was about rebel attacks, plain statistics, a small flood that had happened, and relations with other countries. It was your basic news report, and Scott honestly didn't care much, despite knowing he should. (Which was maybe why he didn't always care, the feeling that he _had_ to.)  
  
After the news had been covered and the king had done his talk and Scott had smiled at the camera a couple times, trying his best to act a bit nervous and excited even though he would have preferred to be alone in his room with the Selection never being a thing, Yannick finally made moves to announce the Selected. A huge camera zoomed in on Scott's face, and a big screen was set in front of him to show the names and photos of all the girls.  
  
"We'll be going down the provinces in alphabetical order, so hold on tight to each other's hands you girls at home! Now... let's start. From Allens, we have miss Kara Wright!" The picture of a pretty brunette paired with the number three showed up. Her hair was extremely curly, and came to about her shoulders. Scott felt the camera zoom in on his face to get a reaction, but he just looked at the picture with a small smile on his face, already feeling bad for the girl- no matter how happy she probably was now.   
  
"From our home province Angeles, we have Liliana Rae Grassi!" Dark brown hair, eyes just a tad lighter, and a hint of foreign heritage judging by her skin tone. Italian, maybe. He smiled. She looked pretty, gentle. She was a five, and Scott wondered what art she specialised in.  
  
"And from Atlin, miss Serena Ella Lewis!" Sleek blond hair, piercing blue eyes. Quite pale, but with a dark red lipstick to contrast her skin. Confident and determined, like a lot of her fellow twos were. He hoped she wasn't a bitch. He smiled, cocked his head a little to the side as to not appear so stiff.  
  
Baffin; Clemente Millard, a five. Bankston; Anne Georgia Lee, a three. Belcourt; Lizabeth Ann Porter, a four. Bonita; Yara Tess Myers, a three. The list went on and on an on, but none of the girls really stood out to Scott. He smiled at every picture and name that popped up, trying to look actually surprised and excited about every girl. He was trained in this, showing the appropriate emotion. Or showing no emotion. Whichever suited the moment best, he supposed.  
  
By the time all the Selected had been announced, Scott had already forgotten all their names except for the last one; Jara Fanning, a two. Scott couldn't wait for Yannick to wrap this all up and go upstairs to his room to quite possibly cry a bit and then regret crying because that was childish and, he supposed, a little weak to give in to, but god, he wanted to.   
  
Instead, Yannick asked him some more questions- if anyone stood out to him, how he felt going into the Selection, a piece of advice for the girls. No, nervous (angry and disappointed, but he couldn't even say that in a normal conversation, let alone on live television.), and to just be themselves. Yannick clearly wanted to ask more, but lucky for Scott, time was almost running out.   
  
As Yannick wrapped up and said goodbye to the viewers, as the room was preparing to end this week’s Report, Scott felt like an outsider. Everyone was clearly buzzing with excitement in the aftermath of the Selected being announced, but Scott could only watch with empty eyes and an empty heart. He didn't want this, but Illéa did, his mother and father did, the selected girl did, and so he had to.   
  
He avoided the king's stern look, smiling at the camera until the end instead and immediately getting up when the crew announced they weren't live anymore. He would have loved to shove his chair back for good measure, but the thing was heavy as lead and Scott was still convinced it was nailed to the ground even though he had never seen nails to prove it.   
  
Out, out, out, out, out. His mind repeated it over and over, and his body obeyed. His dad was telling him to come back, yelling when Scott threw the heavy door shut. He didn't wait to see if anyone came after him, picking up his pace instead.   
  
He didn't realise he was crying, shaking, until he was sat down against one of the castle's walls in the garden, hidden in a corner behind a statue and rows of gorgeous roses. He wrapped his arms around his legs, pulling them to his chest, and his breath hitched as tears streamed down his face, into his mouth and dangled from his chin, dripping onto his knees and wetting his black pants.  
  
He needed to be left alone. He needed someone to calm him down.   
  
He needed- he needed to someone not to judge him, to understand him. He didn't have someone like that. His father had wanted the Selection to happen, and he wouldn't go to him regardless, and his grandfather wasn't even alive anymore. No one could understand the extent of it all. They could try, they could say they understood, but they weren't living this, never had, and never would.   
  
It was ridiculous, but he wanted to sneak into town to find his songbird. It wouldn't do anything, it's not like Mitch _did_ understand how he felt. It's not like he could just show up outside Mitch's house and ask for him. But the thought crept into his mind nonetheless. Mitch wouldn't understand, but Mitch would make him smile and laugh and forget for a bit.   
  
He didn't go, of course. Instead, he stayed where he was until there were no more tears left to cry, until he had stopped shaking and started shivering a bit, until he started to ache from how he was sitting. He stayed until eventually a guard, River, found him. By then, he had already almost fallen asleep and let himself be walked back to his room with River and Aaron telling him that he shouldn't stay out that late, and that his parents had been worried about him. He laughed at that, because he doubted they were.   
  
Of course, neither River nor Aaron had bothered to ask if he was okay, and when he was back in his room, neither did his maids.   
  
-  
  
Mitch wasn't there.  
  
It was Saturday and Scott had gone out to the cafe with Kevin, as usual, but Mitch wasn't there. Scott was disappointed, a little mad, maybe. He wanted to see Mitch and he wanted alcohol in his body to forget about yesterday's Report and the fact that in six days his life was about to be changed by thirty five girls.   
  
He had chosen Mitch over alcohol but Mitch wasn't there, so what even was the use of having gone to the cafe? It wasn't like Mitch was going to show up twenty minutes after his usual set started. Scott slumped in his chair, staring at the door as if he could just make Mitch appear. For fuck’s sake, he hadn't known the boy for very long yet, so what even was the matter.   
  
"He isn't comin’ tonight." The voice startled Scott, and he whipped his head to the side, eyes darting to find the source of the voice. It belonged to a guy who looked like he hadn't showered in a couple days and could _definitely_ use a grooming session. Scott thought he could literally see bits of food stuck into his beard. Currently, he was wiping one of the tables.   
  
"Shame, boy always brings in extra customers with 's voice. Was busy tonight, he said, but I s'posed ye already knew. I honestly didn't think ye'd show up today without him here."  
  
Scott was supposed to already know why Mitch wasn't coming? He arched an eyebrow and tilted his head a little. Mitch didn't tell him, right? No, he certainly hadn't.   
  
He left after that, his heart a big heavier than it was before he walked into the cafe.   
  
-  
  
"I almost thought you'd decided my presence wasn't worth it anymore and ditched this old place," Scott commented with a grin when Mitch walked towards him.   
  
It was Monday, and he had shown up again. Thank god. Scott could use the distraction of someone not involved in everything surrounding the Selection.   
  
He opened his arms for Mitch to walk in to, and took advantage of himself sitting down to nuzzle his head against Mitch's stomach during their embrace.   
  
"Hi." He didn't let go of Mitch's hips when their embrace ended, instead rubbing one thumb over his hip bone and looking up with a smile.   
  
"Hi." Mitch's face brightened, and he bit his lip a bit, dimples in his cheeks and eyes sparkling.   
  
"You sounded great tonight, as always," he let his right hand slip from Mitch's waist, "Shame I had to miss your beautiful voice on Saturday, though..." he trailed off. He wasn't hurt, wasn't mad, just a little sad he hadn't been able to see him that day.   
  
"Oh," Mitch took a step back, letting Scott's left hand drop from his waist too, and instead holding out his own hand, seemingly an offer. "It was too hectic for me at home. I didn't even think you'd show up. I'm so sorry, Scotty."   
  
He genuinely seemed to be, and before Scoff could even think about a reply an "it's okay" escaped his mouth and he stood up, letting the tips of his fingers touch Mitch's outstretched hand, but not quite taking it to hold in his own.  
  
With a motion of his head towards the door and a raised eyebrow, he told Kevin that if it was time to go, or if he had to find him, he would be outside, before walking after Mitch. They weaved through the tiny crowd, and Scott kept his head down, fingers resting on Mitch's. He was grateful that in the time he had been attending the cafe, no one had actively recognised him. Or, maybe they had, but they didn't seem to care or go up to him to make conversation, and he didn't want that to change now. Besides, he was pretty average. Tall and blond weren't uncommon traits, and the fewer people that realised the crown prince was reaching for some Five's hand, a boy no less, and walking through a little homey cafe while he should be preparing for the Selection, the better.  
  
The small area outside was vacant, the light barely flickering. Scott didn't mind, didn't mind at all if he was being honest. He just didn't trust the plastic chairs in the corner. They looked like they would fall apart if someone were to sit on one of them. He sat down on the grass instead, crossing his legs.  
  
Both of them were silent for a bit, Scott's smile slowly disappearing as the silence dragged on. He didn't know what to say, didn't want to appear rude by asking Mitch why he hadn't been there last Saturday. He didn't want to seem clingy, but he also didn't want to come off as uninterested.   
  
"Excited?" Mitch broke the silence. A playful smile was on his lips, but it didn't fully reach his eyes. Scott raised an eyebrow.   
  
"...for?"  
  
"The Selection?" It was now Mitch's time to raise an eyebrow.   
  
Scott let out a dry laugh. Excited? For the Selection? Yeah, sure. He was as excited as he was straight. Absolutely not.   
  
He faked a smile for Mitch, though, but it didn't hold for long. He shrugged, trying to avoid Mitch's eyes. They had turned to concern, and the smile was gone from his face. Scott couldn't bear to look at him like that, to let Mitch see his own face. He was trying to put on a smile, he really was. Yes, a fake one, but he had to smile, right? That's what he'd always been taught. Smile. Just smile.   
  
He failed.   
  
The corners of his mouth turned down, and he brought his eyes up. His head was still hung down, and he tried to swallow the lump forming in is his throat. Of course, being silent and trying to act excited or at least fucking _smile_ only did the opposite. It tightened his throat, made his shoulder sag closer together, and his eyes drift away from Mitch, down to his own knees, again.   
  
"Scott?"  
  
He raised his head and met Mitch's gaze. By now, his sight was a bit hazy, and he could feel tears prickling at the back of his eyes. _Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry._ He had already cried Friday. Saturday, too, out of the sheer frustration and disappointment that had come from not seeing the boy he was with now.   
  
He whimpered, tried to get rid of the tears without actively acknowledging they were there. Mitch put a hand on his knee.  
  
"What's wrong?"   
  
His voice was so soft, so cautious and caring, that a tear slipped from Scott's eye. He bowed his head again, not wanting Mitch to see him cry. Almost immediately, the hand on his knee slid up, and a second hand joined at his other hip. It wasn't long before Mitch pulled himself closer to him, folding his legs around Scott's, sitting at his feet.   
  
They were silent again, tears dripping from Scott's eyes onto his pants and the little patches of grass they were sitting on. Mitch rubbed his thumbs over Scott's hips, humming a soft lullaby Scott didn't recognise. It helped calm him down, focus a bit.   
  
He swallowed twice. "I- I came out to my parents three years ago.” He swallowed once again, ignoring the stinging tears behind his eyes. He didn’t hear Mitch’s sharp breath, just the blood rushing through his veins.  
  
“And, you know? They seemed to... accept it. They weren’t okay with it. Definitely not in the beginning. But it was fine. Like, they acknowledged that I liked guys, they seemed to accept it. Accept me. And, like a fool, I had started to think it would always be okay. That they would _always_ accept it, even if they weren’t... okay with it. I-if you get what I mean.” Frustrated at the tears, he wiped some from his eyes, not daring to look up from his lap. Mitch’s hold on his hips had frozen for a second, become firmer, but his hands were slowly relaxing again, thumbs rubbing over his hipbone again. Scott took a deeper breath. He wanted to prevent the hysterical sobs he had cried on Friday.   
  
“But then a couple weeks ago, the... Wednesday? Before the Selection was announced, the day I hadn’t been here, Mother and Father just casually announced that- that that was a lifestyle choice I had to abandon from now on. That information regarding the Selection was already being sent out without my consent.” He threw his head back, taking in multiple deep breaths. Tears were now freely streaming down his face as he tried to regulate his breathing. When he brought his head back down, he didn’t let it hang, and instead tried to look at Mitch. He tried to focus on Mitch’s hands on his hips, but it only added to his high heart rate.   
  
“T-they said that w-with being the crown prince there  are certain things that must be sacrificed...” It was a whisper, because he couldn’t make himself say more. He had blurted out enough already, and he couldn’t handle it anymore. Not physically, and definitely not emotionally.

He didn't know how long it took for him to stop crying after that. He just knew that Mitch had crawled further into his lap, legs around his body, and was almost cradling him to his chest. He clutched onto Mitch's shirt without a second thought. Fingers were softly brushing through his hair, and he was slowly being rocked from side to side. It probably looked stupid. The crown prince, a tall man with his fair amount of muscle and broader shoulders, being held by someone who seemed so fragile and gentle, with such an almost tiny frame, like Mitch. That didn't matter, though.   
  
“I-I’m sorry,” he gasped. “I shou- shouldn’t cry.” Scott was about to pull back, wipe tears from his face and put on a fake smile again, but Mitch only held him closer, shushing him and saying that it was absolutely okay to cry, all while running his fingers through Scott’s hair.    
  
“You’re allowed to cry, Scott. It’s okay.”   
  
He shook his head. He wasn’t, couldn’t cry. Surely the country was more important than his own love life, right? So it should be okay to sacrifice some things?  _ Not love, _ his mind provided, but he tried shaking it off. He should man up and deal with it, instead of crying pathetically. At least, that’s what he’d always been told.    
  
But he wasn’t in the palace now. He was with Mitch outside some cafe and  _ here _ , it  _ was _ okay to cry.    
  
Eventually, he pulled back from Mitch, and they ended up lying on the grass together, their hands just an inch or so away from each other. Scott had the urge to move his a little, hold Mitch’s. Both to have something grounding him, preventing him from crying again, and simply because he wanted to hold his hand.   
  
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, even though Mitch had told him that he shouldn’t have to be sorry. He still was. They could have talked about other, more positive things. They could have laughed and joked with each other instead.    
  
“It’s okay,” in the same whisper.    
  
It was darker now, and when he turned his head to the side to look at Mitch, the silhouette of his face was barely visible. He smiled at him, even though Mitch was looking up to the sky.    
  
“Thank you,” he whispered, even softer. He wondered if Mitch could even hear it, but when he turned his head so that he was facing him, a smile spread over his face.    
  
“Of course.”    
  
And so they smiled small smiles at each other in the dark, Scott’s eyes searching, darting over Mitch’s barely visible face. He could still see his long lashes, the dimples in his cheeks, and his lips. He could still see small sparkle in his eyes, the one that he hadn’t seen or noticed in the beginning of the evening. He could still see his lips, how they weren’t stretched into a huge smile, but a soft smile nonetheless. He could still see when he quickly ran his tongue over his lips, letting his mouth hang open a bit after that.    
  
Scott was fascinated, wanted to lean in closer. His eyes flickered up to Mitch’s, and when he noticed those weren’t fixated on his, but on the lower half of his face, he had to look away, turning his head so he was looking up to the sky again. His breathing was heavier than expected, and he closed his eyes for a second. He couldn’t, shouldn’t, think about... about kissing Mitch.


	5. five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shes ALIVE  
> (luf me)

In Scott's eyes, the days of preparation before the Selection were some of the worst ever. It consisted mostly of lectures. From his parents- that he should smile, because this was fun. From advisors- that he had to pay attention to the qualities of each girl, because it was important they would have what it takes to be a princess. From his parents, again- that he should suck it up and accept that this was his future, that he was done and over with the 'gay thing'. From Esther, though it wasn't really a lecture, that he should try and act a interested, even though he wasn't. 

Everyone kept telling him to  _ smile,  _ to realise how  _ fun  _ this was going to be. Scott had to disagree. 

His fittings with Kirstin were the best thing to come out of all of this. He had insisted multiple times that he didn't  _ need  _ more suits, that he didn't need any more clothes than he already had, but no one had cared. The King and Queen, insisted that he should look polished and refined, the best of the best. He got a haircut, a beard trim, until not even one tiny hair was out of line. 

One would almost think  _ he  _ was the one who would have to impress someone and stand out from amongst a crowd with the way everyone around him was acting, but he was almost willing to bet the girls would also swoon if he showed up in pyjamas. 

Right now, he was wearing a dark grey suit, and fiddling with the sleeves. The Report was about to begin, which meant he would get his second glimpse at the Selected. Tomorrow morning, he would meet all of them, but for now, there seemed to be some sort of a compilation video of their departures and arrivals. He didn't really care about that, but he  _ did  _ care about acting and looking appropriate. And maybe he did care about the video too, he just wasn't sure in what way. 

The girls looked pretty. Of course they did. The camera was all too focused on Scott himself, and he could feel his face morphing into a forced smile when he watched the video. Of course he watched with interest, and of course he couldn't help but smile- thus far, the video was cute, but the excitement wasn't there. Dread, rather. He watched Rhileigh, a four, say goodbye to her family, which left everyone around her sobbing. He watched Lia, a two, be waved out like a celebrity.

And everything with the compilation was fine- Scott was putting a smile on his face, acting up more interest for the camera, and laughing at times; like when one of the girls' tiny brother ran up the stage and was followed by an angry but also laughing mother. Everything was fine, until the screen seemed to freeze. It didn't freeze, of course. The room didn't, the screen didn't, nothing and no one did, except Scott. It didn't last long, a couple seconds at most, but his eyes definitely widened when he saw one of the Selected, Liliana, he thought, hug him. Mitch.

Fuck.

Of course.

He forced a smile back onto his face, but his attention was nowhere to be found. The only thing he could think of was Mitch. How much sense it made. His sister had entered the Selection, he'd known that. And yes, maybe if he had made the link between Liliana Rae  _ Grassi  _ and Mitch  _ Grassi _ , he would have realised. Maybe, when Mitch didn't show up that Saturday, when the owner - bartender, cleaner, whatever - of the cafe told him that he was surprised to see him there, that he thought he would have known Mitch wasn't going to be there, maybe then he could have realised already. When Mitch had told him everything at home was a bit too hectic to leave his house, when he asked him if he was excited for the Selection. Even how he didn't mention his sister, because looking back on it Scott was almost sure that, had she not been selected, Mitch definitely would have mentioned how sad the girl probably would have been. Not that that was the case now. Liliana was probably the happiest girl (or at least one out of 35) in Illéa right now.

Scott felt nauseous. He didn't care for Yannick's questions afterwards, but got through them with the same smile as always and was glad he didn't mention anything out of the ordinary, whatever ordinary was anymore. Getting out of the room as quickly as possible (which he really shouldn't start making a habit) to get some fresh air was no fun. His parents were yelling at him again to come back, but he really didn't give a fuck. 

It was only when he got into his room, dismissing his maids and barely saying hi to Kevin, who was standing by his door, that he let himself start to process what had just happened.

So Mitch, huh. Well, not  _ Mitch _ , but Mitch's little sister. He really hadn't been planning on that. And of course there was nothing wrong with his sister being part of the Selection. Nothing could go wrong, right? Besides, he and Mitch were just friends, and it wasn't like the two would run into each other, and even if so, what did it matter? He was allowed to have friends, right? Even if he had feelings for them and even if they didn't live close by the palace and even if they were a Five and there was no way they ever could have met each other but no one had to know that and it was fine. Right? 

Sure. Totally fine that the little sister of the guy he liked was one of the girls competing for his heart. He let out a groan, and threw his head back, hitting his door and then just letting it fall down into his hands. As if the Selection wasn't already bad enough by itself.

He didn't give in to sitting down or lying on his bed, instead pacing around his room. His hand ended up hovering over his piano, and he halted. He sat down, pressed a finger down on a key and exhaled. Maybe playing his thoughts away would work. He focused his posture and glanced at the open book in front of him. Without caring enough to look at what piece it actually was, he started playing, and continued like that.

He let his hands take over, ignoring the book after flipping the pages twice. Years of practice had gotten him to the point where he both knew some pieces by heart, but had also gotten better at improvising. It might not all be the most beautiful, cohesive piece and there might be errors and false notes in there, but it gave him some freedom. It gave him the freedom to be other than perfect and to take risks, to explore and find what worked by doing, not because he had been told. 

He loved being free, even if it was only in small moments like where he played the piano like this. His eyes closed, the sun filtering through the windows, just touching his face. The light illuminated the piano while leaving most of his room in shadow. If someone were to film it, it would look like a scene straight out of a movie. A grand piano by a huge window, long white curtains on the side, the left one drawn halfway. Dust particles flying around, catching on both the piano and Scott's wavy hair. 

It was comparable to how Scott had been lost in how beautiful Mitch had looked while singing. How captivated he had been, noticing every little detail and tracing the fine line between light and shadow. It would look stunning, take the viewers breath away.

Except there were no viewers. No one filmed it, and that was the beauty of it. No one had to notice. It was something that was entirely Scott's, like so little things were. It was treasured and beautiful. It was guarded and oh so fragile.

-

Despite everything, Scott was nervous as fuck. He couldn't stop fiddling with the cuffs of his shirt, and he refused to look at the white door in front of him, looking into the hallway instead. 

In a few minutes, he was meeting all the girls. His father had told him to immediately get rid of some, narrow it down a bit, but he wasn't sure how to do that. Or if he wanted to. Sure, he wasn't looking forward to this, was never going to fall in love with one of these girls, but it felt cruel to just send them away after not even a day.

Pacing around probably wasn't going to solve anything nor calm him down, but it at least gave him something to do. His dress shoes, deep black to match the stitches in his white shirt and fitted pants, made a clicking sound on the marble floors. He wasn't sure whether it annoyed him or it kept him calm. 

"Scott? You can come in now, the girls are waiting with anticipation!" Esther was holding a clipboard, and she was smiling at him, trying to excite him. When he didn't mirror that excitement, she let her smile drop. "Come on, I know you don't like this, but they  _ are _ waiting, and  _ they  _ are excited. So just do it to get them on your good side, kay? You'll be free all day after breakfast. Eliminate a few of them, maybe ask one or two of them on a date if you're feeling it. Just to get to know them, you'll have to eventually."

He forced a small smile at her and accepted her hug. He was grateful Esther was the one coordinating the Selection and tutoring the girls, as she was one of the only ones that actually sympathised with him, and that acknowledged that he didn't want to do the Selection to start with. 

"Thanks Es," he mumbled into her hair, before letting finally letting go. 

"Now, come on, go go go go! Flash that gorgeous smile, see  _ there  _ we goooo." She put a hand on his back, and just like that, there was absolutely no turning back. 

They walked through the door together, under the gasping silence of thirty five girls, but as soon as they were in the room, he was on his own. There was a smile on his face, and he held his hand together in front of him, folded. Scanning the room, he noticed that all girls were in pretty dresses, hair in pretty up-do's or hanging over their shoulders in curls. There was no doubt that they were all gorgeous, but there was also no doubt that all of them had been carefully selected.

One by one, he invited them all over. In his head, he was already making a list of who was and who wasn't a suitable candidate. It made him feel sick. He didn't want to judge them, didn't want his brain to automatically sort them and weed out the ones that would please the king, as well as the kingdom. He barely equated himself in that mix, because after all, it didn't really matter. He was a pawn in the king's game and that would never change.

He chatted with all of them, though he couldn't say he remembered much detail. Sure, he knew enough facts about them, their names (though he had studied those before) and their castes, from some he knew what they did or wanted to do for a living, from some he got to know their parents' names or general family situation. It was all a bit much, and there was no way in hell he was going to be able to match girl to fact. Not that it mattered for now, for now it was enough to sit and have a small chat.

In the end, he decided to cut four girls out of the competition. That wasn't a lot, but it were some. Some that he had felt no connection at all with, girls he would probably learn to despise were they to stay a lot longer. He felt bad for them, sure, but at least they would get out of the mess this was doomed to become. 

"My dear Selected, if I asked you to stay behind, please do. If I did not, you are free to follow Esther to breakfast." A small mumble, some disruption. It wove itself through the group of girls, but slowly and surely, girls stood up and gathered themselves around Esther. He smiled at each of them politely, noticing how some of them fumbled with their bracelets, or the ends of their sleeve, nervous. Others had their shoulders pushed back, and a hint of a smile on their face, exuding confidence.

Maybe it was cliche, but as the door closed and Scott turned back to face the four girls that had stayed behind, he realised that nothing was ever going to be the same anymore, and that the freedom he had always taken with his life wherever and whenever he could, was going to be even more limited. From now on, everything would change. And he had an idea that it wouldn't be for the better.

-

Everything definitely changed after that. Days would last longer than he had thought possible, because 24 hours were 24 hours and not more, right? Most of his time was spent taking the girls on dates, sitting in meetings with his father, with advisors, his mother, even. He barely had time to sneak away to see Mitch anymore, but he still managed.

It was not even two weeks after the whole freak-show had begun that he felt like he was going mad. Dinner was taking longer and longer than planned, and all he had to do, had to remind himself to keep doing, was to smile. To be polite and engage in conversation, whether that be with his father, who pointed out which girls were suited for royal life and who were not; his mother, who couldn't stop gushing over all the Selected, making Scott feel sick and lose his appetite; or whether it be with the Selected themselves. They were alright, some of them worse them others, but small talk had never been Scott's thing, no matter how much he was told that it was maybe one of the most important skills in his life.

Throughout dinner, his smiles became more forced, his laugh even more fake, and the tiny sparkle in his eye that would make an appearance ever so often, dull. A quick glance down on his hands showed him that his knuckles were white, his plate barely touched, and his glass of water still full. It felt as if everything around him was just like that. Happening around him, outside of a glass, soundproof box that allowed him to see, but not properly hear. 

"Scott." He jolted, tensed up again, looked left and right, before focusing on the face on his right. "Relax." 

Esther. Of course. Esther was sitting next to him. She'd probably noticed him zoning out.  He let his hands slip under the table, clenching and unclenching them a couple times, turning them over and even shaking them out. Breaths in and out, however both through his nose, brought him back into reality slowly but surely. 

"See, there we go. You okay?"

"Yeah. Fine. It's just... a lot"

"I mean, you've already sent nine of them home, so at this rate you'll be done at the end of the year." She poked him in his side, and he unwillingly let out a laugh.

"Yeah, let's not, huh."

With an eye roll from Esther's side, the conversation was over again, leaving him dissatisfied and more impatient to get out of here than before. The clock on the wall opposite him, happily ticking away the seconds, didn't help his state either. He eyed it with as much despair as he was allowed to show, willing it to tick faster, before putting on a fake smile again. 

Time went on and the only good thing about this dinner still not being over and him still not having left to go see Mitch, was that by now he had acquired his third glass of wine and he had to put in a little less effort to smile at the girls and laugh at their jokes. He laughed at how they were still awkward with the dinner, how the food and the customs were still foreign to them. He smiled back at the more silent girls, when they glanced his way, and he winked at one of them- though he wasn't sure what her name was.

When one of them knocked over a glass of wine, however, he was all too happy to jump up and assure his father and multiple servers that it was fine and he could go with her. If it worked, he could finally get out this way.

"P-prince Scott, sir, you really don't-" the girl rambled. 

"It's fine, come on, I'm more than happy to get away from that dinner for a bit, even if it's because someone spilled a glass of wine over that pretty dress you're wearing. Did Kirst make that one? It looks like her work, a lot more precise than most of what the maids would make."

"Oh. Err, I'm... I'm not sure. I really don't wanna be a bother, I'm sure it's fine. Olive will be able to- to get it clean again."

As they sat down on the stairs, he noticed how flushed the girl's- come  _ on _ , Scott. Name. She has a  _ name _ \- face was, and that there were a couple tears on her face and even more threatening to spill from her eyes. He couldn't understand what made her feel so upset about this. Instinctively, he reached out with his hand, and cocked his head a little to be able to focus, and wiped away a couple of her tears with his thumb. He didn't fail to notice how she- Dani!  _ Dani!  _ Dani from Sota, a six. Of course!-, how  _ Dani,  _ sucked her breath in and held perfectly still. Of course he noticed. So he met her eyes and gave her a small smile.

"Like I said, it's fine." He stood, and held his hand out for her to take, and hoisted her up. It had him taking a step and half backwards, his intoxicated body unprepared for the weight slung his way, but he kept himself standing alright. "Now, is it one of Kirst's dresses?"

"I- I don't know, I think," Dani whispered, taking his outstretched arm as they walked up the stairs. "I think it was by someone called Maldonado?"

Scott smiled. "Yeah, that's Kirst. She's great, ya know. Helping me through this hell and all. And she's a damn good designer. Bit sorry of the alcohol stain, tho," he nodded.

It wasn't long before they reached the floor where all the Selected took residence, and Scott realised it probably wasn't the smartest idea to be gone from dinner, wandering around for this long, even though he was going out to see Mitch tonight. He cursed, halting in his step.

"Fuck," he repeated. "Shit. Fuck. Fuck."

Dani's hand let go of his arm, and he looked down at his dangling arms, before throwing his head back and letting out a laugh. He ran his hands through his hair, another "Fuck" rolling of his lips.

"Fuck. Sorry. Okay so, you're fine now, right. Just like, tell your maids what happened. Don't tell them like... I don't know. Don't tell them that I'm probably a bit more than tipsy and that I'm sneaking away from my responsibilities, or that I started cursing, okay? Fuck. Right. Bye Dani! I really, like, have to go now. Sleep well!"

He waved at her, before running off, feet rhythmically pounding down big marble stairs. In his head, he was cursing himself out. For drinking more than responsible, for leaving the poor girl on her own, for talking too much, and because of the stunned, utterly confused look on her face. For leaving Kevin to wait down in the kitchens with no explanations, and for not knowing if he was gonna be on time to see Mitch sing more than his last goddamn song.

  
  



	6. six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi i'm still alive and im genuinely very sorry it has taken so fucking long. life happens and gets in the way and i found it v hard to pick this fic up again after not writing on it for months, but its been a while and this chapter is finally done and i still love this story very much, and it's almost that we're finally getting to parts that are more fun to write tbh.
> 
> i hope u enjoy and understand and still love this and leave me some votes/comments because theyre really motivating tbh (every time i got a notif for this i was reminded of how i wanted to finish this chapter lmao). love u loads take care of yourselves in every way possible, stan lany and leave me some love x

Socks on his feet, a headache, and a pressure on his chest were the first things Scott noticed when he woke up. There was also a light urging him to open his eyes or squeeze them even more, a smell unfamiliar to him, and distant noises; a combination of chatter and shouting, of something that sounded like feet running over a pavement. He squeezed his eyes shut, and went to turn on his side. Except he couldn't. The weight on his chest was blocking his upper right arm from movement, as well as his entire upper body from shifting to a different position. It was probably part of the reason his his arm felt so numb. And apparently the weight moved. Fucking hell, the weight even  _ talked _ .

"Scott," it hissed. "Scott, wake the fuck up." 

_ No _ , he wanted to say. It came out more like a groan, and he squeezed his eyes shut even more. He grabbed for the rough sheets, throwing them over his face in an attempt to block out the light. It didn't help much.

"Scott!" The sheets were thrown off of him, and he immediately felt the hairs rising on his bare chest. The weight (a person?) was gone as well, taking their warmth with them. He reached for his chest, almost as if he was grabbing at air for heat, trying to block out the cold waves, and then he inevitably opened his eyes. There was a blur, and then he registered Mitch, in a t-shirt and boxers and nothing more, holding dark brown bed sheets in his hand and staring down at him.

Fuck. He hadn't slept with Mitch, had he? No. He wouldn't be wearing boxers and a shirt if that were the case. Still, he squinted and slowly relaxed his shoulders.

"C-cold," he muttered, holding his arms and rubbing them. 

"Seriously? Not even a 'Good morning Mitch, how did you sleep, oh why am I in your bed?'?" The sheets were thrown back on the bed, and Scott gladly took them, wrapping them around his torso like a cape.

"Good morning Mitch. Did you sleep well? Why am I in your bed? Also, why did you wake me- oh." It was still dark out, which he noticed because there weren't any curtains in front of the window, and it was morning and yesterday he had ditched dinner halfway through and god, his head did hurt. But the thing was that he wasn't supposed to be in someone else's bed, and definitely not in Mitch's. "What's the time?"

"Like five something, almost six I think. Kevin's waiting downstairs and he was threatening to start yelling to wake you up, but he really can't do that." 

Mitch was still just looking at him, arms crossed and head a bit to the side. His hair was messy, unlike how Scott usually saw it, and it made him smile. The shirt he was wearing was a bit big on him, and though it didn't completely slip off his shoulder, it  _ was _ dangling there, exposing some extra skin. If he had woken up here under other circumstances (as in, not by accident and having to attend breakfast in two, maybe three, hours) he definitely would have taken longer to look at him and maybe acted on wanting to reach out and simply slide his thumb across Mitch's shoulder.

"Fuck." (He really said that word too much.) He let the sheets fall down on the bed and shivered, but did get out of the bed. "And now?"

"Now you get dressed and hurry off with Kevin before my parents wake up to find the almost completely naked crown prince in my room and scream, or yours send out an alert or search party because you're missing. You also give me a hug." 

That was fair, and Mitch opening his arms for the last part was really inviting and he would never turn down a hug. He wrapped his arms around him and wished he were smaller so he could bury his head against Mitch's chest and seek warmth because he was really cold right now and his head hurt a bit and he had the feeling that if he closed his eyes for even a second he would fall back asleep.

Getting dressed in stiff dinner clothes from yesterday was far from ideal, and he still wondered if he had been that tipsy or drunk that he wasn't able to go back to the palace, or if there was another reason he ended up in Mitch's bed and also how it was possible that Mitch's parents hadn't noticed or if they maybe somehow had.

"Hey, Mitch?" There was some light in the room now, the sky flowing from pitch black to dark blue, and his eyes had adjusted enough that he could see almost everything. He was looking at Mitch's hunched over figure, at how his hands carefully tied the laces of his shoes and at his face and his still messy hair sticking up in random places. Scott was tentative, and his throat was a little tight because some of the details from last night were blurry and he wasn't completely sure what happened. "Why did we... sleep in the same bed? Nothing happened between us yesterday, right?"

The brunet looked up and smiled at him, though his eyes darted around Scott's face longer than a simple no or yes would call for (Scott was probably overthinking it). "No, nothing happened, don't worry. You just didn't want me sleeping on a chair or the ground and I didn't want you to, so we crammed together in my bed."

"Oh. Yeah, okay, no, that makes sense." Was he being too obvious? He chewed on his lip and waited in silence for Mitch to be ready to see them off, and they then walked downstairs where he gave Kevin a slightly apologetic look. This probably hadn't ever been the plan, and he wouldn't forgive himself if it would get Kevin in trouble.

He gave Mitch a last hug and told him he'd see him again on Saturday, which was only two days from now, and pulled the hood of his hoodie over his head. Walking back while the sun was starting to set and people begun walking around and starting their day, all while trying to not get recognised because who knew what would happen- probably nothing good - was stressful and silent. Kevin walked in front of him, and for once, Scott had trouble keeping up with his steady pace.

They walked through alleys and small streets, cobblestones and concrete and sand, with the sky turning from black to blue to orange and red and the streets going from almost empty to full to nonexistent. They walked past shop owners arranging their goods in big glass windows full with dust and past stalls on corners overflowing with candles or soap bars or jewellery and beads, left out like that under sheets during the night. They didn't walk through the centre, where the upper castes lived, but rather through the rougher area, the more crowded one. It was harder to blend in there, but easier to be one in a crowd of many. 

They didn't talk and even when they got out of the city and could relax some, Kevin didn't properly look at him. It was only when a couple of what he assumed were stray dogs, because they were too thin to be properly taken care off, approached them and Scott reached out to pet them, eager to give them some warmth, that Kevin pulled his arm back and pulled him along. Scott didn't want him to be mad at him, or, for what it mattered, at Mitch. 

They were walking side by side and there wasn't a person around them. He had taken his hood off, and dragged his hand through his hair a couple times, looking from Kevin to where he was walking and back to the ground in front of his feet. The sky was an orange red in front of them, and still blue behind them. He didn't know the last time he'd been outside to see the sun set like this. Always behind glass or standing on a balcony or maybe in the garden. Sometimes from behind his piano, but mostly from behind a desk or not at all. He wished he could see it set freely like this more often.

"Are you mad at me?" he asked, not completely sure why the question even rolled off his tongue. Probably because it was somewhere between six and seven in the morning and they had slept somewhere that was not the palace and they weren't even supposed to leave. Least of all Scott.

"No."

"Okay."

"Just tired. You truly are a lightweight when it comes to alcohol, you know?" He laughed and looked at him now, and Scott laughed too. It was kind of terrible how easily he could feel affected by alcohol. Nice at times, but sometimes also annoying and judging by the blur of last night it hadn't just been those glasses at dinner that had caused him a headache. "You took a whole bottle with you from the kitchen. For Mitch, you said, but it was almost halfway done by the time we got to the cafe, and then you two sat outside drinking more from it."

"Fuck."

"Yeah. Took it away from both of you before it was empty, luckily. You could barely even stand on your feet."

"I was tired."

"And drunk."

"And drunk," he admitted.

The remainder of their walk back was silent, and Scott's head still hurt but mostly he agreed with Kevin that he too, was tired. He had no idea how many hours of sleep he'd even gotten. All he knew was that he and Kevin arrived in the kitchens under a huge gasp from one of the main cooks. It caused servants to turn as well, and all Scott did was wave and put his elbow down on the nearest counter (for which he was leaning sideways more than he should and bending his back in a way his brain didn't comprehend.)

"Mornin', chef, I should probably go get ready for breakfast." He saw preparations for it, and the smell of food in general made his stomach grumble. Being awake for over an hour and not yet eating really wasn't his thing, even if he did it more often that he would like to admit. "You'll make sure to get some extra of these, right?" he asked, walking through the kitchen in search of the strawberries, before popping on in his mouth with a smile.

"Of course, whatever you wish, sir."

"Come on, Jules, you've known me since I was a kid, don't start all that  _ sir  _ bullshit now." He hopped onto the counter, shoving some bowls and cutlery and whatever the utensils even were for to the side, and his hand was in the bowl of strawberries seconds later. He was still tired, wanting nothing more than to sleep a little bit more. He didn't remember everything of last night, yet, but goddamnit, waking up curled around someone (Mitch, specifically) had felt really good and he thought that falling asleep next to him probably felt really nice too.

"Sure," Jules laughed, shook his head, "Where've you been hanging out then? Thought you were busy with the Selection."

"Yeah, sure, Jules, of course." He rolled his eyes and placed his hands on the counter next to him, allowing him to lean forward and sway with his feet a bit more. "You and I both know the Selection's a bunch of bullshit I don't care about."

Jules looked at him and raised an eyebrow. He even stopped chopping whatever that green stuff was, and Scott almost felt like he had to apologise. For swearing or not giving a fuck, or maybe both. Their eye contact wasn't broken until Jules sighed a couple seconds later. He relaxed his shoulders and picked up his careful chopping once more.

"Fine, sorry. And I'm not telling you. Maybe when something comes from it, but I'm not snitching myself out." He ate another strawberry and licked the juice from his lips.

"So it's a boy, then."

"What if it is?"

"Nothing. Just want you to be careful, Scott. This might not be the best time to sleep around, is all."

"I'm not fucking sleeping around, Jules." Another arched eyebrow, but Scott didn't look away this time. A kitchen help walked between them, and he took a steady breath. "And besides, according to everyone, the best time for me to do my own thing is never." 

Jules knife his the cutting board hard, and Scott flinched at the sound. "All I'm saying is-"

"No." Scott shook his head and slid down from the counter. "Just make sure there's some extra of these,  _ chef _ ." He took a last strawberry and twirled it between his fingers, making sure Jules was looking at it before turning around and putting it back in the bowl.

-

He had asked Mitch if he could kiss him. He was sure of it. He was stabbing a strawberry with his fork, turning it to mush like the others on this plate. The memory was too clear to be a dream and he was sure of it. He had  _ drunkenly _ asked Mitch to kiss him and he was sure of it, but he wasn't because the memory of him dancing to a song he didn't know with Nico while he played catch with a dog and the King's crown also felt really real, though that  _ definitely  _ had been a dream.

Disinterested, he looked up when his name was mentioned somewhere, and he immediately saw almost all twenty something girls sneaking him glances or looking at him, but he didn't stop mushing his strawberries. Esther had a frown on her face, he noticed as he glanced at her. He followed her eyes to the strawberries on his plate and the fork attached to it held by his hand with white knuckles. He tried to let his shoulders sag a bit and let his fork drop to the plate before flexing his fingers. He mumbled an "'m fine" to her and only ate the rare strawberry for the rest of the meal and downed multiple glasses of water without even noticing.

They had been stumbling up the stairs, trying to keep as quiet as possible as to not wake Mitch's parents, while also both more than a little bit intoxicated. They were lucky Kevin was with them, because he forced them to actually walk and not fall down. It was at the top of the stairs that he excused himself to Mitch's sister’s empty room with enough fate that the two would work it out themselves.

Scott remembered how he had stared at Mitch and Mitch's lips and how hot Mitch's arm around him had felt. The latter wasn't as drunk as himself, which was why he was mostly holding Scott up. His lips had been very pink, reddish even, from the wine and they were also the only thing Scott noticed and kept noticing as his eyes kept fluttering shut, exhaustion taking over his body now that he wasn't walking anymore. And he just kept thinking about how soft Mitch's lips looked and how much he wanted to kiss them and if it would be rude to ask Mitch if he could kiss him, so he just asked, eyes moving to Mitch's eyes.

"No," he had told him. Quick, and Scott hadn't been sure if he was taken aback or tired or sympathetic or disgusted or all four combined.

"Why not?"

"Because you're drunk off your ass, Scott. C'mon," he had tugged on Scott's arm, "let's get you all tucked in, okay?"

"But I really wanna kiss you," he had protested, refusing to walk with Mitch and instead swaying back and forth on his feet a bit now that the direct support had left him a step and an extended arm behind.

"And I really want you to fall asleep before my parents get home and see the crown prince in their hallway, drunk." He took a step back towards him and put his arm around him again, looking back at his expectant eyes and pouty lips and Scott just really wanted to kiss him.

"Do you not wanna kiss me?" It would just be so nice to kiss him, Scott had thought. So not lonely and nice and he had wanted to kiss him for weeks now and all Mitch had to do was say yes and it'd be so easy to close that gap.

"Scott... I don't want to be a drunken and forgotten kiss, okay? Now come on, sleep."

Scott wasn't sure how much of that memory was reality and how much of it was a dream or if all or nothing was. He also wasn't sure how he had gotten to a point of sleep, just that he had woken up this morning with a headache and Mitch at his side. He was so lost in his thoughts about the previous night that he had gone back to stabbing strawberries to mush and avoiding any sort of eye contact with anyone at the table, but he couldn't get their conversation out of his head. He hadn't noticed how some of the Selected were slowly getting up, and the King was looking at him rather expectantly, until he did and went completely red in his face. Almost as red as whatever the strawberry leftovers were.

Once he was out of the room and the King and Queen had left and the girls were all on their way back to wherever, he sat down on the marble stairs, with his elbows on his knees and his head between his hands. He wished more than ever that he could just sleep for the remainder of the day and hide away and forget about what may or may not have happened, even worse, what was going to happen the next time he saw Mitch.

He watched the stairs, tracing the lines in the marble until they were out of his sight and his eyes caught on to a new one. They varied from grey to a rosey pink, bit orange colour and mostly something in between those two against striking white and light grey and almost looked like veins. Maybe, if he looked for looked for long enough, he would be able to see the blood pumping through them, giving life to the stairs. Taking Scott's warmth and energy from where he was touching them to swap it in for beautiful rivers of marble, nourishing the steps he walked on daily.

The sound of heels on that same marble brought him out of his trance, and he blinked a couple times. He breathed in through his nose, hold, out through his mouth while sinking down again with his eyes closed, before he looked up in the direction of the heels. His elbows were still on his knees, though his arms now hanging between his legs and his hands dangling over each other. He straightened his back a little.

"Hey." 

In front of him was Dani, the girl who had spilled her wine all over her dress the previous night. He had trouble believing his awkward conversation with her had been only about twelve hours ago, less even, and didn't really know what to say to her, though a greeting back wouldn't be all too bad of a start. 

"Hi," he smiled, "your dress okay after last night?"

"Yeah, I think so. The stain got out for as far as I could see, so it should be fine." Her shoulders were rolled forward, almost in a hunching way but not quite, and she was clearly biting on her lip.

"Push your shoulders back, Dani," he told her with one raised eyebrow. "You want to exude confidence and regality while you're here."

She did, letting go of her hands and instead holding her arms to her sides. Like all the Selected had this morning, she was wearing a blue dress, and Scott pitied her; pitied all of the Selected. He knew how confining it was to constantly wear dressy clothes, and he couldn't imagine how weird it must be to switch there from casual clothing. He nodded at her, and thought about patting on the stairs next to him, beckoning for her to sit. He didn't; she probably had to hurry back to the communal room for the Selected or her own bedroom, anyway.

"Listen," he instead started, "I have to apologise for last night. I was more intoxicated than I should have been and should at least have walked you to your room before running off like that. I'm sorry for being a mess."

"It's... It's fine, really. I got there and the dress is okay now." She took a step forward, looking at Scott's face and next to him and back to the floor again. "And you obviously got to go away from the dinner to do whatever you so urgently needed to do."

"You didn't tell anyone what happened, right?" He asked.

"Oh! No, never. Though my maids did ask and I mentioned you, but they didn't really ask more details. One of them seemed a bit confused, but I mean, that's fair, right?"

"Yeah, that's fair." 

He patted the spot next to him with a grin and nodded his head to the side. A couple heel clicks on marble later, Dani was sitting next to him, and he turned to face her. He propped up his legs on the step and leant against the side with his lower back. One of his legs was stretched out, and he held his other knee with his hands, leaning forward a bit. They were silent for a couple seconds, but Scott found himself smiling at the brunette girl. Her hair was done up in a bun, like it had been last night, and he didn't know how long or short it was, but the bun looked nice nonetheless.

"I- If you don't mind me asking? Where did you have to go to so suddenly, last night?"

For some reason, he didn't mind. Of course, he wasn't about to tell her he went to see Mitch and mention his name or that he was definitely more into him than the Selection and his parents allowed for, but he did feel some sense of trust with this girl. And in case not and she spilled it to all the other girls, he wouldn't give her the details.

"A friend," he paused, "we meet up every couple days just to hang out." That wasn't a lie, because it basically was what he and Mitch did, but it didn't really sound like the truth either.

"And he couldn't just wait for dinner to be over?"

"No, they couldn't, as dinner went on for way too long and I have to catch the right guards on my way out." Half a lie. He did have to catch the right guards, but their shifts didn't switch all the hours he usually was out, so that technically wasn't a problem.

"Out?"

"Yeah? Ya know, outside of this confinement of a palace?"

Dani's eyes went wide, and Scott almost laughed. "But we're not allowed outside of the walls..."

"Yeah, you aren't, because you're Selected and the Selection is meant to happen here, in the palace, outside of the public eye. I, on the other hand, am the crown prince."

"I-in that case," she swallowed, and Scott cocked his head to the side, still smiling a smile close to a grin. "Would you also not have to stay here?" She didn't meet his eye anymore.

"Yeah but honey, I can do whatever I want. I'm the heir." In an attempt to make her laugh, he framed his face a couple times, his hands like L's around his chin in the end. 

It worked, but she still looked at him with furrowed brows afterwards and her eyes kept searching his face. As a response, he rolled his eyes at her. "I wouldn't have guessed you were the kind of person to sneak out and bend the rules."

"Well, then there's obviously a lot of me you don't know yet, darling." 

With that, he hoisted himself up with the help of the side of the stairs, and winked at the girl, walking up the steps until he got to the close confinement of his room, an eagerly awaiting Kirstin, and a bed he immediately let himself fall down on. He didn’t want to think about last night, but Kirstin was sitting somewhere to his side and his memory started to become less foggy as the seconds passed and he was too tired to push it away.

  
  



End file.
